


The Infinite Knowledge of Epistemus

by TheBuggu



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Robutts kissing and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBuggu/pseuds/TheBuggu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every so often, Cybertron holds a festival for a chosen deity of the Guiding Hand. These Festivals are celebrated all across Cybertron and end with a contest to compete for the ultimate prize: a chance to confess one's feelings for another without consequence. While it is not mandatory for the one confessed to to accept, it is still a sought after prize.</p><p>Perceptor enters in the Festival of Epistemus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Infinite Knowledge of Epistemus

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh geeze. To be honest, this has been sitting on my tumblr for a few months, but I've just been so lazy with editing it to post on here. Welp. I figured to put my free time today to good use!

It was nearly time for the Festival of Epistemus.

  
Nerves never impaired Perceptor, but even he had to admit that the wait until the opening ceremony was bothersome. Countless nights were spent preparing himself; nose pressed into all sorts of datapads. He spent a full day researching formulas, another day memorizing an unabridged version of Cybertronian history, a day devoted to different regions of Cybertron and its inhabitants. And then, there was still the matter of mecha fauna. 

  
There was so much information to study and process. He had to do his best to learn as much information and as quickly as possible. Luckily, Perceptor had an affinity for learning and it was what he did best.

  
In his study, Perceptor glanced from his finished stack of reading and frowned. Several stacks as tall as he was occupied the far corner of the room, but there was at least five times that amount still compiled for him to review. 

  
"Percy?"

  
Perceptor quickly stilled and blinked in confusion. There was a flash of white standing in the doorway. The scientist quickly pushed up from his chair and turned to greet the figure, Drift. The Knight was leaning against the frame, arms folded and grinning. An optic brow was cocked up as he gazed at Perceptor and the growing piles of datapads.

  
"Ah, oh my. Drift, hello!" Quickly, Perceptor rose from his chair and stumbled past tall rows of datapad. 

  
"You weren't kidding about entering the Festival, then?" Drift asked, looking impressed at the magnitude of information. 

  
"Yes," Perceptor replied and smiled shyly. "I believe this will be the greatest intellectual pursuit I've ever participated in."

  
"Really?" Drift asked, blinking in surprise. "It's not about the prize for you then?"

  
Ah, yes. The prize to offer any mech of the winner's choice the chance to become bondmates under patron deities. And the only way one could theoretically pronounce love to a Knight of Cybertron, like Drift. The Knights were bound by honor to preserve their sparks for the Guiding Hand; they could not enter a relationship with any other Cybertronian under normal circumstances.

    
"Well...I certainly did not say that, Drift," Perceptor murmured with another smile.

    
"Heh. Not gonna tell me who has your spark?" Drift teased, slapping the scientist on the shoulder.

    
"I would, but isn't it more exciting to not know?" Perceptor quickly replied. "I want to keep it a surprise until I am standing on the winner's podium."

  
"Whoa! You're talking like you've already won," Drift said with a wink. But after a moment, an odd expression flash in his optics and he shifted his gaze down. "I'm sure, whoever it is, they'll be happy, Perc."

  
"Yes, I can only hope they'd agree," Perceptor whispered and frowned, anxiety clasping around his spark.

  
Drift shifted on his pedes, looking uncomfortable, and he coughed against a balled up fist. "Well. Ah. I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you've been fueling. You gotta keep your mind  _and_  your body in tip top shape," he explained and flashed another grin.

  
"What time is it...?" Perceptor drawled as he glanced to the window. It was already dark outside...

  
"Come on," Drift urged, gently grabbing one arm and pulled him forward. "It's my job as a Knight of Cybertron to keep a participant of the Festival fed."

  
Perceptor felt his faceplate burn at the sudden and unexpected contact, but he followed behind Drift without a single objection. He still thought of how they met--Perceptor walking home from one of his classes, being followed by a less than savory group and attacked, Drift literally leaping down from a roof with drawn swords. Perceptor had been immediately stunned by the beautiful curves and angles on his savior. He had swooned from that moment on. 

  
Drift, out of pity or perhaps secret intentions, began to visit Perceptor. He would walk him home from classes and visit for conversing between his Knightly missions. It felt natural and warm being in the other's presence. It's why...why he had to win; why he was going to spend days preparing and only preparing. He could not let himself be distracted.

  
"I suppose I can spare a few moments to refuel," Perceptor stated and nodded his helm.

  
The Knight paused, mouth pulling into a frown, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah. I won't keep you long, Perceptor."

  
Perceptor frowned as well, noting Drift's use of his full name instead of one of his affectionate nicknames. He sighed softly, feeling a newfound sense of guilt, and approached his energon dispenser. He filled up a cube and drank silently, hiding his mouth behind the translucent surface.

  
"Ah, that reminds me. I'll be busy from here on out until the Festival is over. The cities are getting excited as it's been a long time since a festival of Epistemus--may he bless our minds with ever expanding knowledge--" Drift lifted a servo up in a very ceremonial fashion and bowed his helm against it "--happened. And so, a lot of the universities are celebrating. Dai Atlas is assigning my brothers and I to keep watch and patrol around." 

  
"I understand," he replied quietly and glanced back at Drift. "Your duties come first..."

  
"Yeah," Drift said with a nod. "But don't worry! We'll see each other at the ceremony. The Knights get special seats all around the arena. So...I'll definitely be there to watch and cheer you on."

  
Perceptor smiled halfheartedly and took another sip of his energon. "Yes. That makes me happy to hear, Drift." 

  
Drift looked crestfallen as rested an arm against the hilt of his great blade, strapped to his thigh, and he turned his attention to the doorway. "I should be heading out now. Sorry for just barging in by the way. I gave a ping to the door a few times, but you didn't answer."

  
"My apologies," Perceptor stated, tone growing embarrassed. "I most certainly didn't hear you."

  
"Good thing I check on you then, huh?" Drift teased again with another wink.

  
"Yes," Perceptor murmured. 

  
Drift paused. He shut his optics. "I feel like...it'll be safe to do this. Just once." He pulled closer to Perceptor and before the scientist had a chance to react, Drift gently cupped Perceptor's chin and brought their lips together. 

  
Perceptor froze, optics widening, spark pounding his chest.

  
And just as quickly, Drift broke away. "I'm sorry. I hope you win, Percy. I really do. And I hope you're happy with whomever you chose." His lips quivered as he frowned. And he whipped around and rushed to the door. "Good luck!" 

  
Perceptor watched, frozen with confusion and arousal twinging across his spark. He lifted a shaking servo to his lips, brushing over the area where Drift...had...kissed him. He caught one last glimpse of Drift retreating from his suite and stared at the empty doorway.

  
He felt distressed thinking about the heartbroken expression Drift had; he instantly regretted keeping Drift in the dark and the guilt was nearly overwhelming. Now, he had to win. He had to do his best.

  
Drift had been accurate in saying that he would be busy for the remainder of the days until the Festival. Perceptor heard loud cheers throughout the district, very different from the reactions of other Festivals. But, Perceptor did not leave once to join in on the celebrations. It was too important to keep his mind sharp and crammed with as much information as he could manage. 

 

* * *

  
  
Finally, after all the dreaded waiting, the morning of the Festival came.

  
Perceptor never woke to a more robust and eager city. Instruments blared, fireworks crackled in the far distance, mechs were cheering. He checked his internal chronometer and sighed in relief. He had hours before it was time for the participants to arrive. 

  
He spent one hour skimming over one last datapad before cleaning his frame. He used a hot, deep-plated wash to get as clean as possible; he wanted to look his best for the Festival. He believed it would help boost his confidence with a clean appearance too. With determination budding in his spark, he left the wash room with a glistening appearance and took one final look around his quarters before departing. He imagined how nice it would be to return to his hab suite with Drift after the Festival.

  
As he left the shared apartment building, several of the neighbors--colleagues and classmates mostly--were waving to him and wishing luck. Word had traveled about Perceptor participating and he was greeted to many like-minded individuals wishing him luck with applause and claps on the shoulders. It was humbling, to say the least, but Perceptor was never the type to expect physical validation for his passions. But regardless, it was...inspiring to have mechs cheer and encourage him on.

  
Perceptor was amazed at the sheer amount of stalls set up on the street ways. Each vendor had rare tomes of different topics for sale. There were mechs sitting on the sidewalk, crowded over benches and public seating, faces almost pressed into the datapads. Part of Perceptor wondered how many among them planned on participating and was using the vendors for last minute study sessions. 

  
He was tempted to take a quick browse through one of the booths, but decided against it after a few moments of internal debating. He was confident in all the time he spent rigorously studying.

  
He wanted to run to the stadium and beat all the other contestants to the lines, but restraint held him back. In a contest of wits, being the first to arrive wasn't a requirement to win and offered little assistance.

  
Newly erected statues of Epistemus himself stood surrounding the stadium. Each purple and blue statue was unique; some have the deity sitting in a pondering position, others had him rubbing his chin with a thoughtful expression, a few were of the god holding a brain module and extending his reach skywards.

  
The giant creations were an awe-inspiring sight as Perceptor meshed into a growing crowd approaching the focus of the Festival: the aptly named The Guiding Hand Stadium. Each and every Festival was held there and each time the area was adapted to fit with the Festival's theme. 

  
Perceptor perked up when he saw rows of the Knights of Cybertron standing on both sides of the crowd. All were garnished in beautifully embellished spaulders with a cloak draped behind them that resembled Epistemus'. Each Knight had purple and blue accents incorporated into their paint jobs, with circular rims around their optics that mimicked the patron god's glasses. Each Knight stood vigilantly with their arms folded behind their backs, barely acknowledging the crowd aside from a single occasion nod.

  
It wasn't too long after that he spotted Drift through the flood of bodies. And he stared at the Knight. Perceptor's mouth dropped at how....charming and beautiful Drift appeared in the traditional garbs. Then, Drift spotted him and they locked optics for several seconds. Perceptor wanted to stop and greet Drift, but the shame in Drift's expression caught him by surprise. He waved silently and continued walking, lips pulling down into a frown. 

  
Drift shifted his optics away and sighed.

  
Ahead, Perceptor spotted the large line splitting apart into a branch of several different pathways. 

  
Standing at the entrance was a Knight, arms resting against his hips. Perceptor could see his helm towering over the sea of mechs and just as quickly, the Knight's voice boomed out into the crowd.

  
"For those who will not be partaking the Trial of Lord Epistemus, follow into the left line. It shall take you to the audience seating!" the tall Knight announced, looking quite regal. "If you are feeling blessed by our god's knowledge, then proceed forward."

  
The Knight watched as waited as a few hesitant mechs approached him. He held up his arms, to catch their attention. "Let me add one thing. You are not free to simply walk into Epistemus' sacred ground without proving yourself! You must answer a single question, but you shall only receive one chance to answer correctly. Be warned that no two questions are alike. Should you fail, you shall be escorted to the stands.

  
"Many of you  _will_  fail. This is not a mere contest. This is a tribute to the great mind of Epistemus, and if you take this lightly, you shall feel his wrath. We are aware that many of you plan to cheat, and if you are caught..." The Knight finally paused in his speech and give a single snort. "I am supposed to say that you will simply be banned from any of the Guiding Hand's Festivals, but that is not enough. You will be scorned by my very Knights as any insult of our patrons is an insult to us!"

  
The crowd made hushed whispers all around Perceptor.

  
"Now, proceed, brave competitors. I hope you are blessed by Epistemus' wisdom. May he bless our minds with ever expanding knowledge," the Knight added, using the same hand motion as Drift had days ago. And then, the Knight stepped aside and gestured to the entrance. "Onward."

  
Mechs hesitated.

  
A few, uncertainty written on their face, quickly darted out of the crowd to the left entrance. Perceptor couldn't blame them. He didn't doubt that most were under the impression that the Festival was a carefree type of event. The Knight's announcement helped thin out the crowd by a good portion and nearly a third had meshed together at the stairway entrance. Perceptor watched as a crowd undeterred by the Knight of Cybertron lined up, waiting for their turn to enter. Slowly, the line began to move, giving Perceptor a better view of the archway.

  
Overhead, a bust of Epistemus hanged against the curve; most likely a new addition for the Festival. On both sides of  Epistemus' head were smaller and less detailed outlines of each patron god's name. Perceptor's optics flicked from the bust to the entryways when he witnessed mechs being escorted to the stands. The strangers all wilted in defeat. 

  
There was worried whispers. More mechs were being shown out of the line.

  
Perceptor's servos fidgeted. He wrung his wrists and frowned. He turned around and looked for Drift again, taking solace with the Knight's presence. It took a moment to spot Drift again through crowd. But after regaining his composure, he made a loud intake and turned back to the entrance. The distance was so close, and yet, so far away.

  
Perceptor could only watch from the crowd as mechs entered solitary booths--perhaps where the questions were asked. He noticed that with a majority who entered, a bright red light flashed and there was a buzzer that grew louder with each step closer.  With every five or six mechs that entered, only one passed the question; it was announced by the light flashing green instead and the buzzer gave off a high pitched ping. 

  
Part of him was excited for his question, if so many were already failing. He wanted--no-- _needed_  to win. There was a rush. Not one a mech could have in a life or death situation, but of another breed. A feeling of wanting to prove himself and win. He was eager, taking each moment with stride.

  
A full hour had passed though before Perceptor was anywhere near the entrance and even then there was still approximately a hundred feet or so between him and a booth. It had been an hour of watching mech after mech failing their question and losing an opportunity for admittance. Several became impatient and left the line to go in the stands instead. Perceptor made a disappointed tsk and shook his helm. It wasn't like a Festival for Adaptus or Mortilus or Primus, where races or fighting was often featured.

  
Soon, the distance closed. Few mechs passed their question, even more continued to fail. Fifty mechs ahead. It shrank to forty. Then twenty. Then ten. Before he knew it, only a handful were standing in front of Perceptor. With a better view in the entrance, Perceptor saw multiple booths in a horizontal line. Two Knights, one of them being the same Knight that made the announcement, stood guard and watched as competitors entered the booths. 

  
The last ahead of him were herded into booths. Painstaking minutes went by without any reaction from the buzzers.

  
Perceptor blinked after realizing that the same Knight from earlier was watching him. And then the Knight walked forward. 

  
"I recognize you. My most promising, Drift, often speaks of you," the Knight stated.

  
Perceptor blinked again. And several more times. He bowed his helm politely and glanced from the Knight to the booths a few times."Ahh. Yes. My name is Perceptor, Sir Knight."

  
"Dai Atlas," he interjected and pressed his arms behind his back. His stare scrutinized over Perceptor's fame. "Yes. Drift speaks warmly of you."

  
This brought a shy smile to Perceptor's lips. It must be a regular occurrence if the leader of the Knights of Cybertron could comment on it. He fidgeted with a subtle shift on his pedes and dared another glance up. "Dai Atlas, sir, may I ask what will happen after the question is answered correctly?" As must as Perceptor wanted to ask more about Drift, he couldn't. He did not want to distract himself.

  
Dai Atlas' optics flickered with a strange light and his mouth pulled into a frown. "You speak as if you've already passed."

  
"Not out of arrogance," Perceptor quickly added and held his servos up in a 'no offence' posture. "I simply have faith in all the studying I've worked on. For days, I've been sitting and reading book after book, learning as much I as I can. And...I am quite proud of that," he explained, pressing a servo to his chest plate.

  
To his surprise, Dai Atlas...laughed. And a smile appeared on his worn face. "You almost sound like a Knight. Even the squires don't have such dedication. Well, if you are successful, you will go into the main arena and await for the second phase to begin."

  
Perceptor opened his mouth again, to ask another question, but one of the booths gave a green flash. The mech stepped out.

  
"Too easy!" the stranger announced. Perceptor paused and watched, recognizing the mech. It was-- "My name isn't Brainstorm for laughs and giggles, my good mechs. Also, that voice on the other line sounded very irritated. I guess that's what he gets for using an incorrect formula anyway!"

  
Ah, yes. Brainstorm was an old classmate. 

  
"Good luck," Dai Atlas said with a comforting tone and nodded to the now empty booth. 

  
Perceptor gave one last smile to the Knight and walked ahead. 

  
He hesitated at the entrance, nerves brushing against his spark. His pedes felt unexpectedly heavy. The booth was quite simple: a bright white inside, a video screen plastered on the wall. It was big enough to fit an average sized mech with some decent wiggle room. 

  
Perceptor lifted his legs and forced himself inside. 

  
In an instant, the booth lit up. The door slid closed behind him. The video screen activated. 

  
"Welcome," the mech on the screen greeted. "State your designation, please."

  
Perceptor nodded quickly and cleared his throat. "Perceptor of Iacon."

  
The clerk nodded and took note. "Alright. Please stand still as I run a scan. We do this to make sure that you are not trying to smuggle any information inside."

  
The mere thought of trying to cheat insulted Perceptor, but he nodded in understanding. "Naturally."

  
Without another word, the booth flicked a full room scan on. Perceptor felt a strange tingle through out his frame and shivered at the sensation.  
"Good, good. Nothing on my screen. Very good. Let's proceed to your question then."

  
Perceptor nodded and swallowed anxiously. He stared intently at the screen.

  
"Before I start, listen closely Perceptor. Don't rush; there's no time limit. But, I will not repeat the question. If, for example, you needed to solve an equation, you will not be provided with any material to work with. You must figure out the answer without any tools, as is Epistemus' will."

  
He frowned as he listened but he wasn't afraid. 

  
"Do you understand? And if so, do you accept this condition?" the mech asked him.

  
"Yes," Perceptor state clearly and nodded. 

  
"Very well. Your question..." The clerk's voice drawled off as he glanced down to a datapad in hand. "Alright. A trivia question. For this, you'll receive a bunch of information and you must identify the identity of the object. Don't take this lightly."

  
"I understand."

  
"Let us begin then. Good luck, competitor. 'I am eternal. I am brief. I am long. I am short. I am shared, yet I am unique. Many see me, others do not. I am broken. I am complete.' What is the answer?"

  
There was a pause. Silence loomed in the booth. 

  
"Whenever you are ready to answer, you must speak in Epestimus' name," the voice explained. "Think it over carefully."

  
Perceptor nodded again and rubbed his chin silently. He tilted his helm up, optics darting back and forth as he thought of the riddle, reflecting over it slowly and carefully. There could be many interpretations to the riddle; many answers. But only one could be correct. Perceptor patiently repeated the riddle over and over in his mind, dissecting each word, each sentence. Minutes ticked on. This, Perceptor realized, is why it had taken so long for his turn. Competitors were taking their time. It was foolish to rush an answer. But, at the same time, waiting for too long allowed doubt to flourish. Thoughts of Drift flooded Perceptor in encouragement, keeping his nerves steel. Perceptor closed his optics and smiled at the warmth. He could do this. He just had to remember what he was competing for.

  
Who he was competing for. 

  
Perceptor opened his optics and gazed at the vid-screen again. "By Epistemus' grace, I believe the answer is a path. In both a literal and figurative sense. We walk on paths everyday. Some pathways are shorter, some are longer. Some are created for a limited purpose, such as the path we all followed for the Festival. As you said, some are eternal. Such as a path in a city. And that does not even factor in the path each Cybertronian takes in their lifetime. Each individual has a route in life. Some walk a similar line." Perceptor thought of Drift and his vows as a Knight of Cybertron as he spoke. "And others may walk on a different path in their life." 

  
He didn't expect to ramble on so much and by the time he had finished, his body was shaking. Nerves, perhaps. It was much more intimidating than it appeared to have someone staring in silence, impartial and neutral, judging every word. 

  
Perceptor's servos grasped at air as he waited for a response. 

  
Finally, the mech on the screen budged and chuckled. "You could have just given a single word as your answer, but I enjoyed hearing your interpretation. Very thought provoking!"

  
The compliment brought a smile to Perceptor's lips and he leaned forward, listening closely.

  
"Congratulations, Perceptor of Iacon. That is very correct!" the clerk replied with a smile. "Epistemus has blessed you!"

  
Perceptor sighed loudly, relief sweeping over. He nearly collapsed to his knees by sheer amazement.

  
"This is only the first step though," the clerk reminded him. "You will have many, many harder questions to answer. But, I wish you luck, friend! You'll be shown the way by a Knight after you exit the booth."

  
Perceptor nodded, giving a prompt "Thank you!" before eagerly stepping out of the booth. He still had a long way to go, but he still felt a swelling sense of pride.

  
Dai Atlas walked over as soon as he stepped out. "You passed? Good job." The Knight, arms still folded behind him, nodded over his shoulder. "Follow me. I will show you the way."

  
Perceptor felt elated. Amazed. Excited. He wanted to do more; he was ready for the next task. 

He took one final look at the waiting, hopeful contestants as he passed by the stadium entrance. They took a right and approached a long spiral staircase. 

  
"The stairs represent the climb of learning. Epistemus appreciates dedication to knowledge and there are no shortcuts," Dai Atlas explained and moved out of Perceptor's way. "Again, good luck, Perceptor."

  
Perceptor thanked Dai Atlas before he reached for the stairway handle and took a single step. He felt giddy as he clutched the handle tightly and moved up. As he climbed up step after step, the stairs ascended into a dark and secluded hall. He lost track of how long he had been climbing after several minutes, but he kept his helm held high and continued walking confidently. 

  
He counted his steps--reaching six hundred and nineteen before light broke through the darkness. As he took the final step and departed the staircase, it felt like Perceptor was entering an entirely new realm. Mechs filled his vision above; with thousands upon thousands sitting in the stands. Applause drowned all other sounds. 

  
Perceptor froze when he caught site of the other competitors standing gathered in a circle. And he quickly made his way over. 

  
"--honor to meet you!"

  
"--question, sir!"

  
The scientist perked up he spotted a glimpse of maroon through the group of frames. 

  
"Yes, yes. Please, settle down. I know many of you are quite eager to begin!" the maroon frame spoke.

  
Mechs parted. 

Perceptor gasped and paused mid-step. Standing mere feet away was  _the_ Alpha Trion. The greatest mind in all of Cybertron. He did not bless his presence to any mere citizen, only under special occasions could one hope to meet him. And, the Festival of Epistemus was indeed a special occasion. 

  
When the old and sacred mech casted his optics to Perceptor, Perceptor felt a gasp hitch against his vocalizer and he bowed respectfully. Alpha Trion waved Perceptor over with a gentle smile and nodded. Perceptor quickly obeyed, feeling starstruck and in awe of being in the presence of such an important Cybertronian.

  
"Another brilliant mind makes his way," Alpha Trion murmured and gestured to the cheering crowd. "Enjoy this moment. Relish in how victory felt. I just came to inform you that when all who answer the admittance question arrive, we shall move on. For now, relax." Alpha Trion took a moment to seek out each participant's optics and smiled. "But remember to always keep your wits ready."

  
There was a whisper of vows as each mech, Perceptor included, agreed and promised to do so.

  
Alpha Trion turned away, cape flowing majestically behind him, and he made his way to the edge of the arena. The instant he left them, the group broke out into excited chatter; Perceptor took the time to count their numbers. There was only thirty other mechs present.

  
"Perceptor?!" Brainstorm quickly cried out and was suddenly at his side. "What are  _you_ doing here?" he asked, looking annoyed.

  
Typical Brainstorm. He hadn't changed.

  
"I am here to partake in this event, Brainstorm. Surely you could deduce that," Perceptor replied with an unamused tone.

  
Brainstorm scoffed, wings perking high in the air in an offended position. "Haven't you heard? I'm gonna win this competition. All these mechs are nobodies."

  
Perceptor rolled his optics and smiled. "Correct me if I am mistaken, but out of the two of us, who had the higher test scores in our classes?"

  
Brainstorm bristled and glared. "That was years ago! My scientific prowess is much sharper these days and I could school circles around you."

  
Unimpressed, Perceptor nodded. "Yes. Well, I suppose there is no other appropriate time nor place to test that, hm?"

  
"You bet!" Brainstorm snapped pointedly and jerked a finger at him. "Just wait, we'll see who the better scientific mind is!"

  
Two other mechs had walked up the stairs and entered the arena, stirring more cheers from the audience. Perceptor glanced up to the lowest level in the seats when he noticed movement of the Knights. Carefully, the Knights of Cybertron marched in, single files, and took their seats. Just like Drift mentioned they would. He watched and waited, holding another gasp against his intake. He eventually spotted Drift following his Knight brethren into the stands, taking a seat very close to Dai Atlas' chair. Beside Drift, sat a red and white flier who was talking to him.

  
Perceptor clenched his servos on reflex as he watched how Drift laughed at whatever the flier was saying to him. A pang of jealousy flared and he frowned as he watched inaudible conversation. Now that he thought about it, Drift never really spoke of any friends among the other Knights to him. When the flier scanned the competitors and spotted Perceptor, he smiled, nudged Drift's shoulder, and pointed him out. Drift blinked in surprise and followed the flier's direction. They froze in unison and locked optics once more. Perceptor twitched and waved with a hesitant demeanor. Drift smiled halfheartedly and slowly waved back. Drift opened his mouth and whispered something to the other mech and then dropped his hand.

  
There was another commotion from the crowd. Everyone turned their attention to the stairs as a lone figure appeared and stepped out. 

Perceptor's jaw dropped. The crowd cried wildly. Approaching him and the other competitors, walking with a happy bounce in his step, was Senator Shockwave himself. Perceptor heard panicking gasps. A few cursed their luck. 

  
"C-can a Senator even participate?!" a voice whispered.

  
"This is so not fair!" another whined in disbelief.

  
"Can you say rigged?" someone hissed quietly.

  
"Probably not, since you made it in," somebody stated sarcastically.

  
Brainstorm seemed to be the only one not entirely upset by the revelation. "Lucky me! I'll get to beat my rival AND a Senator!" he cried. Perceptor heard the unmistakable sound of his voice cracking, so it was most likely false bravado.

  
Senator Shockwave was everything any and all students ever wished to be. He was intelligent and extremely gifted with anything his servos touched and he even had an impeccable sense of fashion. Wearing a dark purple and cyan paint job--a clever homage to Epistemus' appearance--the Senator waved to the adoring crowd with a pleasant smile as he walked forward. Senator Shockwave eyed the group in consideration and approached a spot to left of Perceptor.

  
"Hello," the Senator greeted with a friendly smile.

  
Perceptor stared and made a surprised sound after realizing that Senator Shockwave was staring. At him.

  
"Yes, you!" the Senator confirmed and stroked his chin. "It seems there are several competitors this Festival. This will be a very worthy group of contestants!"

  
"This is a large amount to you, sir? I...I expected more people, to be honest," Perceptor replied and fidgeted. 

  
"Please, just Shockwave. No 'sirs'. We are equal here!" The Senator grinned, clasping his servos together. "And, as for the numbers, this is the largest group to pass the first trial to date in Epistemus' Festival."

  
Perceptor gaped. "Really?"

  
Shockwave nodded. "Indeed." Shockwave paced a few steps, lifting his helm to examine the crowd. "So, Perceptor, if I may ask. Who are you competing for? Whose spark do you wish to confess to? Are they here, watching?"

  
Perceptor froze and stared at the Senator. His lips pulled open and closed several times in hesitation. He rubbed one arm slowly and glanced to the stands, where Drift was sitting with his flier friend. "There...Up there. He's a Knight of Cybertron. Right there, beside the flier," Perceptor explained and carefully nodded in Drift's direction. Shockwave followed his gaze and smiled. "His name is Drift. We've known each other for years. And...I just...Ah...Forgive my rambling."

  
"What a coincidence!" Shockwave stated warmly. "That's who I'm competing for," he said, flashing a large grin. 

  
Perceptor sputtered in surprise and stared at the Senator in horror.

  
Shockwave stared at Perceptor for several seconds in silence before lifting a servo to his mouth and bursting out into a soft chuckle. "Ah, forgive me! That was an attempt at humor. I've never been one to do it very well," he explained, waving a servo in the air. "Remember how that felt though and use that passion to do as best as you can. Think of the other competitors as competition for your Drift." 

  
Perceptor blinked a few times and frowned. 

  
"Remember it," Shockwave repeated and slowly walked away. He made his way to the group. Just as quickly as with Perceptor, the Senator intermingled with the group in no time and joined in the conversation.

  
Minutes passed. Perceptor listened on as Shockwave asked others in the group an assortment of questions, but as soon as the crowd's excitement died everyone turned their attention back to Alpha Trion. The mech was standing on a podium directly in front of the Knights on the first row of seats and waved to the audience. 

  
"Greetings, my fellow Cybertronians!" Alpha Trion's voice rang into the air, amplified by a broadcaster. I thank you all for coming!" A video screen activated, zooming in on Alpha Trion's face. "It has been far too long since we last gathered under Epistemus' embrace."

  
Alpha Trion turned to his left and gestured to a pair of Seekers to his left on the podium. "It is a great honor to welcome back the previous winner of the Festival of Epistemus, Starscream," he announced, gesturing to the white and red Seeker. The Seeker flashed an elegant smile one his face and leaned closer to the taller flier beside him. "And his chosen: Skyfire."

  
There was a loud series of applause as the pair waved.

  
"This will not be a race of speed or wits!" Alpha Trion called out as his gaze traveled around. "We are here to honor the intelligence of Epistemus! This means that the competitors must be dedicated to learning and knowledge. Let us not forget that the last Festival was truly an endurance that spanned over three joors!"

  
Perceptor glanced at Drift again. How long had the Knight been staring? Drift's expression softened. Drift's friend noticed and leaned towards him. He whispered something that made Drift freeze, audials arching up in the air, and Drift snapped. Perceptor hid a giggle behind his servo and quickly turned his attention back to Alpha Trion. He was discussing the rules of the Festival. 

  
The competitors were not allowed to leave the arena and if they attempted to do so, they would be disqualified. From the way he was talking, they could be stuck in the arena for hours without repose. 

  
"Dai Atlas, I hear, gave a very moving speech regarding dishonorable attempts to cheat. Let me reiterate that he is very correct. If any competitor is caught cheating, they will be removed from the arena and banned from future Festivals. I urge you to keep this in mind. Good luck!" he exclaimed and turned away, cape turning sharply behind him.

  
From the entrances at the ground level on the arena, mechs stepped out through the doorways--judges for the Festival most likely. There was any many of the mechs as competitors, each approached an individual. A dark green mech was the one that walked to Perceptor and nodded in a greeting. 

  
"Here," he said, extending a stylus out to Perceptor. "This is what you'll be using to write on the data screen when there are equations. You must show your work as well. The questions will grow more diverse and intricate and difficult as you proceed. We'll start out giving each contestants individual questions and will weed out those who answer correctly and incorrectly."

  
Perceptor nodded and examined the stylus. It was a bright purple, inscribed with Epistemus' name in Primal Venacular in light blue. But almost instantly, the arena floor rumbled and many display boards raised up on miniature platforms. 

  
"I'll be standing by you," the judge continued and led Perceptor to one of the boards. "I have a device on me that blocks all internal comm. links, just in case you try to secretly get assistance. Not trying to say that you will or anything!"

  
This brought a smile to the scientist's face and he chuckled. "Nonsense, I understand. And I appreciate the length you and you cohorts are going to to keep the Festival fair, as many of the other competitors, I'm sure."

  
The judge made a surprised sound as moved aside to let Perceptor approach the board. "We just need to wait for the other contestants to take their place and we will have an overseer watch for our signals. When the numbers are rooted down, you will eventually go against the others left and we'll eventually have a winner!"

  
Perceptor nodded eagerly and glanced at the green mech. "Thank you, um...?"

  
"Greengears," he replied and winked. "Just do your best as thanks. It's going to be a long competition, I can tell you that," Greengears added, tilting his visor back and rolling his helm back and forth against his shoulder joints.

  
"I didn't come expecting this to be simple," Perceptor murmured, grasp tightening around his stylus. 

  
He lifted the stylus up and made a few testing strokes on the display board. The characters appeared in a holoform, glowing brightly. The button on the other end of the stylus, when pressed, caused the stylus to erase parts of the glyphs when it brushed across them.

  
"Alright, there's the signal!" Greengears exclaimed and nudged Perceptor's shoulder. "Looks like they be starting off with mathematics after all. You'll solve for all kinds of problems, but it isn't a race, so take your time."

  
In an instant, the entire side of the board filled up with equations; problems to solve for angles or to measure the distance between one to another, and even several compound lines of formula appeared. In mere seconds, Perceptor and the others lifted their styluses and pressed them against the data boards. The crowd cheered as servos took off in a dance, waving back and forth. Perceptor used his free hand and counted, flicking digits up and down in a sporadic display.

  
Perceptor nibbled his lips as he worked. He was never one to doubt his own problem-solving abilities...but now... Now, there was an entire stadium of people watching. Bringing fingers to his lips, he reflected on the few brief moments Drift's lips had touched his own. He made a nervous sound and rubbed his chin in thought. 

  
The overseer paced around, arms pressed neatly against his back as he passed by. "Thirty two!"

  
Many paused as they turned to look at the commotion. It had only just begun and yet, a competitor was being led away. He looked so upset, making Perceptor sympathize with him. 

  
"That must be one of the freezers," Greengears commented quietly. 

  
"Freezers?" Perceptor repeated and glanced over his shoulder.

  
"Yep. What we call the ones who get too nervous to actually try. It's a shame, since they put so much effort into solving the first problem. It's just something you can't really understand unless you're out here, working in front of hundreds of thousands of mechs. Very daunting," Greengears explained, shaking his helm sadly. 

  
Perceptor frowned and quickly resumed his work. 

  
The initial shock and surprise of seeing a competitor pulled so quickly from the tournament began to wear off as many followed in suit. 

  
The questions were never ending; every time one was answered correctly, it vanished off the board and a new question appeared. Perceptor's intakes slowed as he focused on the board. By the time he checked his internal chronometer again, an hour had already passed and nearly a hundred questions had been solved, but only three mechs had been guided away.

  
There were still twenty people between Perceptor and his one chance to win Drift's hand--No, no. Not win Drift. It would be the only chance to confess to Drift how he felt, without causing conflict to Drift's position as a Knight. 

  
Perceptor paused, waiting for some sort of direction from Greengears, but the judge only watched. He rubbed his optics, shifted weight on his pedes, and continued on writing. Another quiet hour passed. The crowd had died down to hushed whispers, giving the competitors much need silence to focus. 

  
Currently, only five mechs including the 'freezer' had lost. Alpha Trion was being completely serious when he said how long the competition would last... Perceptor shuddered lightly and stretched his arms out. He pressed on.

  
He noticed that with more time that passed, the more complex and difficult--not difficult for Perceptor though--each question became. Every few seconds, he took an opportunity to steal a glance at Drift and smiled. The Knight was leaning forward, optics never leaving Perceptor. He watching closely; Perceptor could feel his gaze traveling up and down his frame several times. Drift look amazed. 

  
It was just the reminder he needed. 

  
Pecerptor couldn't help but to beam with pride. Drift was watching him and that was all he needed. He picked up the pace with his writing, solving and answering the questions with much more confidence.

  
"Hold, hold!" The overseer called out for attention. "Ten competitors are left! It is time for pairs!"

  
It made Perceptor jerk in alert. He had became so distracted with his problems that he lost track of how many answered incorrectly.

  
"Wow. That was intense!" Greengears said, clapping Perceptor's shoulder. "S'just gonna get harder though. Since there aren't many left, you're all gonna be paired off and go against each other. And then the winners will go against each other until only two are left. That's when the hardest question to solve will be given." 

  
Looking around, Perceptor spotted Brainstorm bragging to his own judge and his shook his helm. That wasn't a surprise. Brainstorm did have modesty...issues, but even Perceptor had to admit he was very gifted. In their classes, they often butted heads over their work, but it did not change the fact that Brainstorm was intelligent in his own right. He also saw Senator Shockwave--naturally--standing at his board. Shockwave did make Perceptor nervous, more than anything. He was much more intelligent and gifted than he and Brainstorm combined; not a single Cybertronian scored as highly in the same tests Senator Shockwave had taken post-graduating.

  
"Alright, I think the overseer has decided who to pair up," Greengears said as he turned to watch the others. "It is timed though. You'll have a list of three hundred questions to answer and the winner will be picked by whoever answers the most correct, or if by chance, they finish first. With correct answers, that is."

  
Perceptor swallowed down a worried sigh and nodded. He watched as Greengears wheeled his board over to another, backs against each other.

 He didn't recognize the mech who had been writing on it, but he was a bright red and orange flier. Senator Shockwave's was pushed to the opposite side of the arena ground, paired with a short minibot. The minibot was stricken with fear and looked nervously up at Shockwave. Perceptor could see from the corner of his optics Brainstorm throwing up his hands in relief. 

  
"Ahhh. Good luck," Perceptor murmured as he approached the flier. 

  
But, all that he received was a snobbish scoff and a sharp, "Ah, but I don't  _need_  luck."

  
Perceptor frowned and walked around to his side of the board. A flicker on the giant, looming videoscreen caught his attention: a timer appeared. Styluses pressed to the data screen, waiting for a beginning signal. 

  
"Begin!" the overseer cried out, flagging his arms down. 

  
The timer set for an hour. Perceptor froze. Only one hour to complete three hundred questions. 

  
Without a second thought, Perceptor snapped his stylus forward and started answering as many questions as possible. His opponent did just the same. He could hear the mech's styluses scraping against the databoard at nearly an impossible speed, making Perceptor jerk his servo back and forth. The joints at his wrist ached from writing so fast, but Perceptor couldn't give up. He was so close to his goal.

  
He ignored the timer; he couldn't let himself become distracted with the pressure. 

  
There was trivia questions, historical questions, questions to abbreviate chemical names. It was an overload of knowledge. 

  
At the beginning of day, when he made his way to the festival, Perceptor wished that time would go faster. But now...He would give anything for more time. 

  
"Winner!" Greengears announced. 

  
Perceptor paused and glanced to his screen. The list had shown only ten more questions and the timer had only a few minutes left. He blinked in confusion and glanced to the judge. 

  
"I...I was rooting for you," Greengears said softly, frowning at Perceptor. "I'm so sorry."

  
Perceptor froze, optics shifting from Greengears to his opponent, who was crossing his arms together in a smarmy fashion. 

  
"You're good," the flier cackled and crossed his arms. "But I'm better!"

  
The clang of Perceptor's stylus briefly caught his attention as he brought his servos to his mouth. He...he lost? His intakes were shaky and anxious. All the studying, all the information he had been cramming. All of it just became pointless.

  
"No...no..." If not for the soft gasping, Perceptor almost doubted that he was even speaking. "Drift...How can I face him?" he whispered, voice cracking. He could feel his optics building fluids and slowly dripping.

  
"Congratulations!" Senator Shockwave, who had been standing idly by after beating his minibot oponent, came to greet the victor. "It seems this is a very fine Festival after all--ACK!" The Senator slipped and bumped shoulders with the flier. "Pardon me! I am such a klutz. And oh, my, my. I made you drop your stylus!"

  
"It's alright!" the flier quickly snapped and kneeled down to reach for it.

  
"Nonsense! Allow me," Senator Shockwave said in a sweet tone and was quick to snatch the stylus up.

  
"N-no really! You don't have to!" the flier hissed, voice growing more anxious. "Please give it back."

  
"It's only polite to make up for being so clumsy," Senator Shockwave replied. "Let me just give it back...Hmmm. Interesting!"

  
Perceptor looked up, optics feeling heavy and lazy.

  
"Well, well! This is wet and covered...in paint? How strange," Shockwave continued. "Almost as if it were rushed," he said, carefully twirling the stylus in his servos. 

  
"Yeah, weird!" the flier snapped and held his servo out expectantly. "Can you just give it back? Now! Please."

  
Shockwave ignored him and approached Perceptor's board, lifting the stylus up. "Out of curiosity, sir judge, when are these made for the Festival?"

  
Greengears blinked in surprise and stepped closer, eyeing the stick in Shockwave's servo. "They're designed months in advance. But...They aren't painted until the morning of the Festival. It helps keep people from trying to sneak in their own," the judge explained, optics lighting up intensely.

  
"And who comes in contact with these styluses before they are given out?"

  
"The only ones who see them are us," he replied, nodding to the nearby judges. "The general public has no idea about them."

  
"So, in theory, a judge would have access to the paint being used?" Shockwave asked as he lifted the stylus up to the board. He waved his servo back and forth in a sloppy motion, but to their surprise, a neatly written answer appeared.

  
"Yes," Greengears replied, optics narrowed. 

  
Perceptor perked up in alert and stepped closer, watching Shockwave wave his arm back and forth in a illegible manner. And yet...answers kept appearing on the board.

  
"Wait! Pause everything!" Greengears quickly yelled, waving the overseer down. 

  
The flier quickly stepped closer, attempting to yank the stylus away from Senator Shockwave. "Give it back, you snob!"

  
Senator Shockwave stepped back, holding the stylus close to his chestplate. For the first time since he came out of the stairway, Shockwave's expression twisted angrily. He scowled at the flier menacingly. "I might come off as such, but that is much better than being a cheater!"

  
There was a growing murmur from the audience.

  
Alpha Trion quickly stood up from his seat beside Starscream and approached the annoucement podium again. "It seems there is someone disgracing Epistemus' name by cheating! The tournament is momentarily postponed while this is sorted out!" the old mech explained calmly. He walked off the stage as most of the audience made angry boos.

  
Perceptor frowned, wiping his face with his palm.

  
A hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder, making him jump in surprise. He turned to his right and there was Senator Shockwave, standing beside him.  
"Thank you for being honest about that stylus, even though you didn't have to," Perceptor whispered. 

  
"Nonsense," Shockwave replied, his expression softening. "For someone to have the gall to cheat...Just look at it this way, you almost beat him while he was cheating!" he said with a gentle smile and squeezed Perceptor's shoulder. 

  
"How did you know?" Perceptor asked, watching Senator Shockwave.

  
The flier's optics twinkled in a mysterious way when he did not answer; he only continued to smile. The Senator turned his attention up to the stands. Alpha Trion was gathered with Dai Atlas and a few other Knights. Greengears was standing at the base of the stadium walls, looking up, and waiting for an answer from them. The audience was still booing and were restless in their chairs. Perceptor gave in and took a daring glance up to Drift again. The Knight was standing up, hand on his sword's hilt. With his optics darting up and down, attempting to get a gauge out of Perceptor. Perceptor sighed and wiped the dripping coolant from his optics. The wait was unberable. 

In a matter of minutes, Alpha Trion had walked back up to the podium. Hands intertwined and pressed to his chestplate, the philosopher cleared his throat. "It has been decided that because Perceptor still answered correctly, he will be allowed to continue on."

  
"What about the others who lost to the cheater?!" a mech in the audience cried out.

  
On the wide vid-screen, Alpha Trion's optics narrowed. "Aside from Flamecrasher, the others all answered correctly and much faster than those who have lost already. I believe this is Epistemus' will that we continue on. After all, this is a Festival of knowledge, and these are the most worthy competitors who have entered." A servo waved on the screen, gesturing down to the arena. 

  
The crowd died down. Whispers swept over the stadium. Perceptor felt heavy; his frame was shaking. 

  
"It's alright. You're still in!" Senator Shockwave stated cheerily, servo dropping to his side. 

  
Perceptor instantly reached for Shockwave's servo and grabbed it between his own, squeezing it in appreciation. "Thank you so much, sir. You might have just given me a second chance at this."

  
Shockwave's smile shrank but he nodded. "Thank me by doing your best." he joked and chuckled softly. Without giving Perceptor a moment to reply, Shockwave stepped forward towards the center of the arena. "Hello! It was an honor to participate in this event, but I am making it known that I wish to withdraw!"

  
Perceptor's jaw dropped open. Nearly everyone watching looked just as stunned by the announcement. 

  
"You...you dastard!" Flamecrasher shrieked as he was being led off the arena by two Knights. "You'll regret this!"

  
Senator Shockwave looked unimpressed by the outburst and turned his back to the flier. "No need to escort me," he stated happily to the approaching Knight and departed from the arena's ground level.

  
In hindsight, Perceptor had not expected anything like this to happen. 

  
"Well, well, well," Brainstorm began as he paced up to Perceptor's side, arms folded cockily to his back. "Looks like you're the only one left for me to beat, huh  _Percy_?" he said with a smug tone, optics beaming. "Yeah, I could have taken mister pompous Senator, but he left. I guess some mechs can't handle a genius."

  
Perceptor merely rolled his optics and turned to Brainstorm, crossing his arms together. "So. I'm curious. Who's the mech you'd want to confess to?" he asked, not taking Brainstorm's bait. 

  
"None of your business!" Brainstorm snapped. 

  
Perceptor smirked. "I suppose you always had sub-par choices after all."

  
"Quark is not sub-par, you clod!" Brainstorm snapped, wings arching up defensively. 

  
"Quark?" Perceptor asked, with in a mocking tone of shock. "The student at our university who got to participate in lectures? That Quark?"

  
"Urgh. S-shut up!"

  
"I think I know who I'm going for," Perceptor replied, sending a passing wink to Brainstorm.

  
"I hate you," Brainstorm hissed.

  
Perceptor giggled. Before he had the chance to reply, Greengears was approaching. Brainstorm's judge made his way over as well and pulled him over for a private discussion.

  
"Alright, I'm glad that worked out!" Greengears exclaimed. "Now, this is going to be the hardest, most thrilling part yet to happen!" 

  
"I can't imagine it getting harder," Perceptor replied, rubbing his chin in thought. 

  
Greengears merely cackled. "Ahhh, my friend. I suggest you stand back," he urged and walked to the edge of the arena.

  
Perceptor blinked a few times before quickly following after Greengears. The databoards that all the contestants used to write their answers down deactivated and slid back under the arena floor. 

  
"What will we use now?" he asked, glancing to the judge with concern. 

  
"You're looking at it!" Greengears stated, gesturing to the arena. 

  
The very walls of the arena lit up like a databoard. Perceptor could only watch with a horrified expression as half of circle displayed red text and the other half a blue text.

  
"It's the same problem," Greengears clarified. "You get one half, Brainstorm gets the other. And whoever solves it first will win."

  
Perceptor could only gape. They would have to solve half of the arena's radius length in a problem; half of the giant arena's wall. It was...huge. It would take hours just to get the problem set up to solve. Perceptor took a few staggering steps. This was unlike anything he ever encountered.  He felt helpless, even as Brainstorm rushed ahead to his side of the arena wall.

  
"Hey, you alright?" Greengears spoke up and frowned. "C'mon! Don't be a freezer, not this close to winning."

  
His body did just that and he was petrified. He couldn't move. His intankes were harsh and anxious. How could he win?

  
"PERCY!"

  
He snapped his helm up to the crowd and spotted Drift, standing up in front of his chair. The Knight cupped his mouth with his servos. 

  
"I BELIEVE IN YOU!" 

  
If Perceptor hadn't been staring at the Knight, he would have doubted hearing him. And yet...there Drift was, cheering him on in the otherwise quiet stadium. He found himself gazing into Drift's distant optics, getting lost in the handsome warmth, and smiling. Perceptor then nodded, slowly but surely. To Drift. To himself. 

  
His fist tightened around his stylus and he took off in a awkward jog. Normally, he would feel more self conscious about running, but right now it was the last thing on his mind. He darted to the very start of the problem. Brainstorm had a head start, but that meant nothing. If one were to go too fast and not take their time, they could make the tiniest mistake that would throw off the entire problem. 

  
Everything around became secondary to the problem in front of his optics. He could do it. Perceptor knew he could do it, he just needed to remain calm and collected. Brows furrowing in determination, he leaned forward and pressed his stylus against the wall. A new found sense of strength and stamina filled his entire being, giving him the will to keep going.

  
He felt like his mind was in a trance, devoting every spare ounce of space to working and deciphering the problem accurately. 

  
It took hours just to reach halfway through the equation. But it also meant that he was halfway closer to wining. Part of him was still swept away in disbelief that he had made it to the final problem. 

  
When Perceptor checked his chronometer, the time had passed three whole joors. It was quickly ticking on to twenty one an a half hours. It was for Drift, he repeated over and over and over. He really was getting exhausted but his hands kept moving. His brain crunched into overtime. He glanced over to Brainstorm's work several times; the other mech was just as far as he was. Brainstorm had indeed grown since they were classmates.

  
Another few hours and Drift found himself two-thirds of the way through. His pedes were shaking. His frame ached in agony of having been standing up for so long. 

  
The end was in sight.

  
Feet and feet away, but within reach.

  
Brainstorm was just as close to his own victory. 

  
It was coming down to the wire.

  
Their servos picked up a blurred pace, dashing and jotting down sloppy strokes. The audience was growing excited and movement shuffled in the stands. Hundreds of mechs were leaning over the wall to watch them.  Within minutes, they had both reached the very last number in the equation, gave a last swipe of stylus on the board. 

  
"Done!" Perceptor cried out in unison with Brainstorm. 

  
They stared at each other and stepped back, glancing towards the approaching group of judges. The judges were silent as they eyed Perceptor's answer and then they moved on to Brainstorm's, taking several notes in the process. Perceptor nearly sagged down to the ground in relief after they left them to deliberate in a closed circle. 

  
"I have to admit, Brainstorm," Perceptor panted, leaning back against the arena wall, "You have grown so intelligent and competent." 

  
"What...?" Brainstorm eyed him like he had cosmic rust.

  
"I'm being very serious!" Perceptor stated and smiled, nodding to the other mech.

  
Brainstorm sputtered on his words and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah...Well, I guess you've gotten a  _little_  better," he snorted. "I'm just glad it's done. Sheesh. Could this have been any more dramatic?"

  
Perceptor made a sigh, agreeing with Brainstorm's sentiments and watched as the group of judges walked across the stadium, to the stairway leading to Alpha Trion's chair. The audience was growing mad with excitement and cheered at the incoming announcement. 

  
The giant vid screen activated, displaying Alpha Trion's face. Greengears appeared beside him and leaned closer, whispering something unheard to the older mech. He nodded and smiled. 

  
Alpha Trion stood up from his chair and approached his podium once more. "My fellow Cybertronians! A winner has been declared. This Festival has broken the last one's length. Twenty three hours and seventeen minutes! A new record indeed!" There was a pleasant grin on his face. "Now, before I announce the winner, I want to commend both of the finalists. There has never been a closer match!"

  
The crowd cheered. 

  
"Congratulations..." Alpha Trion's voice trailed off for a few moments, drawing a suspenseful atmosphere out.

  
"Perceptor! The new champion of Epistemus!" 

  
Perceptor could only watch as the video screen displayed his face, mirroring the surprised expression he had. Beside him, Brainstorm visibly wilted, shoulders drooping down. He quickly reached for his colleague's shoulder and pressed on it. 

  
"I really mean it, Brainstorm. That was a very close end," he murmured, extending a hand out. 

  
Brainstorm glared at Perceptor's servo but his anger died in seconds and he begrudgingly reached out to shake it with his own. "Yeah...yeah...It was, wasn't it?"

  
Perceptor smiled and slowly broke away from Brainstorm when Greengears waved him over. His legs felt brittle like refined energon crystals, but the sheer happiness of winning powered him on. Greengears squeezed his shoulder in a very congratulatory way and gestured Perceptor up the stairway. Hand wrapping around the arm rail tightly for support and guidance, he walked up the stairs with a brisk bounce in his steps.

  
"Welcome to the champion's stand, Perceptor!" Alpha Trion greeted as he made his way up. 

  
Starscream, the previous winner, held a purple cloak--the very same style as the one Epistemus himself was depicted with--and clasped it around his neck. 

  
"Congratulations," the Seeker greeted, and just as quickly, he returned to sit by his tall mate.

  
"T-thank you!" Perceptor stuttered, feeling a bit anxious as he realized that every set of optics was now watching him. 

  
"You have won Epistemus' favor on this day," Alpha Trion replied. "So tell us, who is the one you wish to confess to? Let the citizens bear witness to your words."

  
Perceptor made a nervous sound and quickly gazed up to the sky. "He is one, burdened with an indelible law. He and many others are devoted to the Guiding Hand...but I believe it can allowed since I have won under Epistemus' name. Should he accept, t-that is."

  
Fear and doubt crept up against Perceptor's spark. What...what would Drift say? Would he agree only out of guilt? 

  
"His name is..." Perceptor turned in Drift's direction, wishing to see the Knight's expression and reaction directly. To his surprise, Drift had stood up from his seat and was walking out of the crowd, back to Perceptor. The same flier who had been sitting beside him was following, saying something. He gasped and quickly opened his mouth once more, "Drift! DRIFT, WAIT! Please. It's you!"

  
The flier behind Drift perked up and glanced to Perceptor and quickly yanked on Drift's arm.

  
Drift came to a sudden halt and turned around, gaping at the scientist. 

"Drift," Perceptor repeated and glanced to Alpha Trion. "His name is Drift, of the Knights of Cybertron!"

  
He heard several shocked whispers. There were wide optics peering up at Perceptor, all looking stunned.

  
"A Knight of Cybertron?!" Alpha Trion spoke up, staring Perceptor down intensely. "None have ever dared..."

  
Perceptor frowned, rubbing his arm in hesitance. "They are followers of the Guiding Hand, but this is a Festival of said Hand," he argued, still frowning.

  
Alpha Trion's optics glossed Perceptor over before he turned his attention to the Knights. "Dai Atlas, your thoughts on this? Will Drift be allowed to give an answer even with your Knight's oaths?"

  
Perceptor swallowed as the Great Knight moved out of his chair and stood up. The tall mech's chest heaved up once. "Drift is a Knight of Cybertron," the leader spoke in a loud voice. "He has his oath, indeed, but...this will be the only exception as this is a Festival of our Guiding Hand! He will be allowed to give an answer."

  
Perceptor never felt more relieved in his life and he glanced to Drift with a hopeful expression.

  
"However," Dai Atlas continued before anyone else had the chance to speak, "To preserve the image and dignity of my Knights, there shall be no public debauchery should Drift accept this proposal. They must affirm a bond in private. This is the only way my blessing shall be given."

  
He nodded in understanding, it was much better than Dai Atlas forbidding it entirely.

  
Before Perceptor had another chance to speak, a white blur sped through the crowd, carefully making its way towards him. Arms wrapped around Perceptor and he was pulled into a squeezing embrace. 

  
"I accept!" Drift cried out, voice quivering. The Knight leaned closer and nuzzled against Perceptor's audial. "By the Guiding Hand, I'm so sorry. I kissed you and just left...I'm so sorry," he whispered and pressed his lips to Perceptor's helm. 

  
"Drift...You didn't even think it over," Perceptor replied just as quietly. "Are you sure?"

  
"No, I have. Ever since I found out you were going to compete. I'm such an idiot," Drift stated, resting his forehead against Perceptor's spaulders. "I really...I really thought you had someone else."

  
"I couldn't just tell you," Perceptor said, bowing his head apologetically. "I...I didn't want to tempt you, with your vows as a Knight and all."

  
All around, mechs were cheering. Wreaths made of rare cyberflowers were tossed down at their pedes. Drift caught a single flower and pushed it into the fold of Perceptor's cape. He lifted Perceptor's servo and kissed against his knuckles affectionately. 

"I accept!" he repeated, staring at Alpha Trion.

  
The philosopher looked pleased and nodded. "Very well." He then turned back to the camera and cried out, "I believe our victor and his chosen will be leaving to...affirm their bond," he stated, sending a mischievous glance up to Dai Atlas' direction. 

  
The Great Knight merely nodded and sat back down.

  
Arms literally swept Perceptor off his feet and cradled him. Drift pressed him flush to his chestplate and nimbly carried him offstage.

  
"Drift!" he cried out in surprise and quickly wrapped his arms around the Knight's neck. It was a funny image, Drift being shorter than Perceptor, and yet carrying him so easily, but neither cared. He merely smiled and brought their lips together in a passionate kiss. Drift's audials perked up in alert and he could feel warm blush of the Knight's cheeks.

  
Drift rushed out of the stadium as onlookers rooted them on.

  
The run from the Festival stadium to Perceptor's home passed in a blur.

  
The next thing Perceptor knew was that Drift had managed to maneuver to his apartment's door, despite the large crowd standing outside to congratulate him. It was cut short with Drift kicking the door closed behind them and him rushing Perceptor to his own berth. It was...adequate enough for two bodies, but Drift didn't seem to care. Perceptor laid back as Drift straddled his lap. The Knight captured his mouth in a fierce kiss, running one hand up and down Perceptor's side.

  
Perceptor moaned softly and shuddered in exhaustion. 

  
"Wait...Wait," Drift muttered and frowned. "Are you tired?" he asked in concern and pulled back.

  
"Honestly, I am," Perceptor admitted, rubbing over his optics. "But, I don't mind to keep going!"

  
"Percy, you need your rest. Relish your victory!" Drift said encouragingly. 

  
Perceptor pouted as the Knight moved off the berth and began to strip his armor off and gently laid his Great Sword beside the pile. "But I am!" he whined and tried to sit up and follow Drift. 

  
Drift was quick and climbed back on the berth, settling at his side. "That was just...amazing and incredible to watch, Percy!" he exclaimed, but he began to blink wearily. After mere moments, the Knight began to nod off clumsily.

  
"Yeah..." Perceptor closed his optics just as fast, resting his helm on Drift's chestplate.

  
They could make up for lost time later. They had all the time in the world now...

 

* * *

  
  
Shockwave had been watching the rest of the competition from a private room, beaming with pride at the final results. Both mechs were very smart and intelligent indeed. However, the sudden sound of the doors caught his attention, but he did not advert his gaze from the stadium window. He took a slow swig of his energon.

  
"You made a grave mistake, Senator," a voice said from behind.

  
"What a lovely Festival," Shockwave commented cheerily, staring down at his cube of energon.

  
"Petty of you to use your influence for a silly reason," the voice hissed bitterly. "I'm sure you know the consequences for interfering with another Senator's business, correct?"

  
"The difference between Flamecrasher and those two mech?" Shockwave murmured, nodding to Perceptor who was now standing with his Drift on the winner's circle. "They deserved to compete and he did not. Flamecrash is nothing but a cheater and believed his position allowed him to abuse that power, as many of the parasites in the Senate act."

  
Shockwave heard the click of a comm. link. "Lobe, prepare another table. We have a special guest coming to the Institute." 

  
There was a sudden and painful spark on Shockwave's backside. He collapsed, gasping in surprise, as his body was stunned. He was unable to move.

  
"Flamecrasher sends his regards," the smug voice growled into Shockwave's audio receptors. 

  
His vision faded to black as servos grabbed him and roughly lifted him up. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank yooooou for reading this! I hope you all enjoyed this. 8)


End file.
